


Trauma + Comfort

by Captain_Kieren



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: 2x04, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Creepy Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e04 X-Ray + Penny, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Good Dad Jack, Hugs, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Parent Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), Psychological Trauma, Rescue, Trauma, Whump, Whumptober, Worried Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), and he gets one, macgyver needs a hug, x-ray and penny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Kieren/pseuds/Captain_Kieren
Summary: What happens after Mac crawls out of the manhole.Missing scene. Episode Tag: 2x04: X-Ray + Penny
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101





	Trauma + Comfort

Mac’s face pops up on the facial recognition program Riley’s got running, way before the calls start coming in.

Jack’s not in the room when the alarm goes off. He’s out in the hall, pacing, cursing, fingers interlaced on the back of his neck. His face feels hot, radiating heat, like he’s got a fever. But it’s stress.

Stress, and guilt, and a marrow-deep, frozen-hot, black terror weighing down his gut so he wants to puke. He’s wanted to puke for the last ten hours, ever since Mac got snatched.

Damn it.

God damn it, he should have been there. Just what the fuck was he thinking, sending the kid’s calls straight to voicemail _six times?_

God…

If they don’t find him…

If Mac doesn’t come home…Jack is never going to forgive himself.

That’s when the door to the War Room busts open.

Jack whirls, heart already hammering in his chest.

It’s Bozer. He’s breathing hard, like he just ran a marathon, his eyes are huge. “We got him!” he says breathlessly. “Jack, we got him on a street camera!”

Jack’s heart is slamming so hard he can barely hear anything. “ _Where?_ ”

* * *

He tears down the highway at 90 miles per hour, tires shrieking. He yanks the GTO ruthlessly from lane to lane, throwing himself and his passengers from side to side, forcing Riley and Bozer to hang on for dear life to whatever they can grab onto: the dashboard, the windows, the doors, the seat between their knees.

No one complains. Once, Riley tells him to drive faster.

He presses the gas pedal the rest of the way to the floor.

* * *

There’s a mob on the street when they arrive.

Men and women, all fluttering over something Jack can’t see. Their bodies are blocking it. Blocking him.

The GTO doors slam open, everyone scrambling out.

“MOVE!” Jack roars, shoving his way through. “STEP SIDE!” He’s wearing a plain, red tee-shirt and jeans, but the sheer authority of his tone parts the crowd easier than flashing a badge or wearing a uniform.

And there he is, curled up on his side and halfway in the street.

A couple of good Samaritans are standing in the road, waving their arms to stop traffic so Mac doesn’t get run over.

Jack pushes his way past the last few bystanders before roughly throwing himself to his knees, his hands instantly gravitating toward the kid’s face.

It’s pasty white and too cold. His blonde hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, and there’s fierce-looking red bruise growing on his right eyebrow. Knuckle-shaped.

Jack sees red.

Breathing through the rage, he gently pats Mac’s cheeks. His own voice wobbles when he tries speaking. “Mac? Hey, Mac, come on, man. Come on, dude. Let’s see them baby blues. Are you with me? Mac?”

Riley and Bozer are busily keeping the pedestrians at bay, doing the whole “nothing to see here” shtick.

Jack can’t even imagine how they’re not falling apart right now.

“ _Mac_ ,” he pleads, growing more desperate by the second. “Show me you’re okay, man. What—what’s this?” Momentarily distracted, his hands travel down to the furious, red wound on Mac’s right arm. Blood is trickling from it, but not a lot. It looks like he got a flu shot from the Hulk.

_“Jack?”_ Matty’s voice comes over comms. _“How’s our boy? Is he conscious?”_

“No—” Jack scrapes a hand through his buzzed hair. “No, poor kid’s out cold. I, uh, I think he’s been drugged.” Digging into his back pocket, he takes out his phone and turns on the flashlight.

_“Check his pupils,”_ Matty advises.

“Already doin’ it.” Gently peeling back one eyelid, Jack flicks the light over the blue eye underneath. “Yeah, Matty, his pupils are pinned and don’t react to light. Murdoc pumped him full of somethin’—”

Maybe his pupils didn’t react, but Mac does. As the light is flashed in front of his eyes again, his face twists up and he cringes hard, body curling up as his hands clumsily reach up to protect his face.

“Mac! Hey! Hey, buddy.” Jack starts leaning in, but instantly backs off when he registers the wild, unfocused look in his partner’s eyes. They’re huge, and too bright-blue, and not at all coherent. Jack’s seen that look before, in the eyes of soldiers back in the sandbox who have seen too many things.

Riley and Bozer see it too.

“Easy, Mac,” Riley says in the most soothing tone she can manage. “It’s us, see? We’re your friends.”

“You’re safe,” Bozer puts in.

Mac is breathing hard, looking between them for several seconds before recognition finally dawns on his face, when he’s looking at Jack.

“Jack?” his voice comes out breathless, almost a squeak. It breaks his damn heart to hear.

“Hey, man,” Jack says calmly, laying a steadying hand on his knee. “Welcome back.”

As Mac stares at him, the memories visibly come flooding back. He starts breathing faster, harder. What little color in his face drains away, leaving him looking like he’s made of chalk.

“Woah, woah,” Jack says, taking the risk of petting the kid’s hair, trying to calm him down before he starts hyperventilating. “Easy, hoss. Easy. Stay with me, okay? Eyes on me.”

Ice-cold fingers grip Jack’s arm, holding on so tight it’s almost painful. His eyes are still wild and unfocused, but are now shiny with moisture, darting back and forth as the memories suffocate him.

What the hell did Murdoc do to him?

“Aw, Mac,” he says softly, scooting closer. It’s almost enough to bring tears to his own eyes. He wraps his one free arm around the kid’s back, holding him gently.

_“We’ll have Medical run a full tox screen when he gets here.”_ Matty says. _“Bring our boy home, Jack.”_

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack forces another smile, just to show Mac that he means it. That he’s safe. “That was Matty on the horn just now,” he explains, tapping his ear piece. “She was worried sick about you, brother. We all were. So, what do you say? Want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Mac hiccups, leaning his face into Jack’s chest. He’s shivering a bit now. Probably in shock.

Jack doesn’t even bother asking if he can walk. “Mind if I pick you up?”

Mac doesn’t answer. His head is getting heavier on Jack’s chest, so probably fading out again.

Sure enough, when Jack gets him into his arms, carrying him bridal-style against his chest, the kid is out cold, head tipped back. There are dark circles under his eyes. He’s limp, like a ragdoll.

“Is he okay?” Riley asks, her own eyes huge with concern.

“He’ll be all right,” Jack says, not because he knows for sure, but because he has to be fine. He has to be.

* * *

Bozer drives the GTO back to the Phoenix while Jack and Riley fuss over Mac.

They called ahead to Medical to get things ready, so now they’re working through a list of things the doctor asked them to do. Taking vitals, checking responsiveness, that kind of stuff.

By the time they make it back to the Phoenix, Mac is semi-lucid again. He isn’t as panicked this time, maybe recognizing the familiar seats or smell of Jack’s car. Or maybe Jack himself, who is still solidly pressed against him, squeezing his hand, speaking to him.

When he comes around, Mac’s eyes are half-lidded, but he’s able to answer questions.

“What can you remember?” Riley asks gently.

Mac’s face twists up with the struggle to think. “Not much…” he says, frowning. “Just…the room. The tunnels. Getting out through the manhole…almost getting hit by cars.”

"Are you hurt anywhere?” is Jack’s first one.

Mac turns his head to him now, blinking owlishly before rubbing his face. “Not bad. My arm…”

“Yeah, I saw that…” Jack’s finger gently ghost around the area of the injection site. “What’s that from?”

“IV,” Mac says tiredly. He swallows, squirms in the seat. His eyes drift shut. “Murdoc…pushed it in…make sure I could still feel pain…”

Jack grinds his teeth, seeing red again. “And this?” He gestures to the bruise on the kid’s forehead, which is now turning from red to violet.

Mac reaches up to touch it, then winces. “I fell asleep, I think…or passed out. He punched me…to wake me up…”

“Anywhere else?”

He shakes his head, letting it lean back against Jack’s shoulder again. “Just dizzy. Tired…”

Jack wraps an arm around him, squeezing reassuringly. “Go ahead and get some shut-eye then,” he says softly. “You earned it.”

Mac is dozing before Jack even finishes talking.

* * *

The next time Mac wakes up, his head is clearer. His cognitive functions seem to be back to normal, except that he’s too quiet, slouching on the edge of the examination table.

Mac is usually a reserved, sedate kind of guy. Getting a big reaction out of him is hard work, something Jack prides himself on being able to pull off consistently. He knows exactly what buttons make the kid roar with laughter, which ones make him smile big and bright.

But at the moment, the kid is downright solemn.

“We’re running tox screens on your blood right now, Mac. We should know what Murdoc dosed you with soon,” Matty says as the doctor finishes taping up Mac’s injured arm.

He looks like hell. His shirt is damp from sweat and his pantlegs are soaked from his escape through the sewers. While there’s at least a dash of color in his cheeks now, the dark circles under his eyes have only gotten worse.

“If I had my guess, I’d say something in the nightshade family,” he says, glancing sideways at them, but only briefly. His eyes flit from place to place, restlessly. He’s shaken, and trying not to show it. “Atropine, hyoscyamine, scopolamine…”

Jack interrupts him just as Mac’s voice starts to shake. “The important thing is, we got you back. Now, all I have to do is go find Murdoc and start breakin’ bones.”

Matty looks up at him skeptically. “How, Jack? We have zero leads.”

Jack’s hands are on his hips. “Not zero. We got one.”

Everyone’s attention returns to Mac, whose head is down again, his good arm holding the edge of the table while is injured one lays in his lap. He looks so thoroughly exhausted it’s heartbreaking.

When he realizes everyone is looking at him, he straightens up, tries to look like part of the conversation instead of the subject of it. But he stays quiet– a testament to how out-of-it he really is.

“We know Murdoc was holding him in an underground room, right?” Jack goes on.

“How do you propose we find this underground room?” Bozer says.

“I don’t know, but if he found a way out, then we should be able to find a way back in there. I mean—even if Lord Nutbar’s not there anymore, somethin’ in there might—might help us hunt him down, you know what I mean?”

“From the spot where Mac surface, there are miles of sewer tunnels. Searching them all could take days,” Riley points out.

“Or weeks,” Bozer says. “Mac, there’s gotta be something you can remember. I mean, other than popping out of a manhole and almost getting killed by a car.”

“Cars.” Mac is looking into the distance again, swaying. “There was definitely more than one car…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but before that—” Jack says, energized by the idea of getting back at Murdoc. At finding his slimy, kidnapping ass and breaking every single bone in his body, starting with the hand that put a bruise on Jack’s boy. “When you were walking around in the sewers, you remember seein’ any, uh, signs? Graffiti?”

Mac listens intently for about two seconds before the drugs reclaim him and he wobbles, bending his head down to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Cage has been standing off to the side this whole time, watching Mac silently, studying him. Now, she cuts in. “Stop, stop,” she says. “I need a minute alone, just with Mac and Riley.”

The moment she interrupts, Mac lifts his head and meets Jack’s eyes.

In response, Jack gives Cage a skeptical smirk. “What for?” he asks, glancing at Mac again.

“Loftus and Palmer, 1974,” Cage answers, sounding more like Mac than Mac does right now. “Their experiments proved how even the most seemingly benign questions can alter a witnesses’ memories. Even create false ones.” While she talks, Cage goes around the side of the exam table and stops in front of Mac, looking at him carefully with that scrutinizing gaze of hers.

“I need his memories pure,” she says. “Which means I need everyone but Riley to leave.”

Still not convinced, Jack looks back at Mac.

The kid looks so tired, so wrung out. It was different when they were spitballing ideas about searching the sewers, but this is different. This feels more like interrogating Mac, which seems about as wrong as you can get. The kid _just_ got rescued. Can’t this wait for another couple hours? At least until he’s got some fresh clothes, some food and water in him, and a little bit of decent shut-eye?

Mac, however, gives a microscopic nod, flattening Jack’s bristles.

“Yeah, okay,” Jack says, giving in. “Uh, but we’re gonna be right in that right room there.” He points a finger at Mac, who is looking at him but also kind of looking past him. It’s the drugs, he knows, but it still scares the crap out of Jack. Like Mac isn’t all there. “I’m not takin’ my eyes off you,” he says seriously.

Mac gives a forced, humorless laugh that ends up with his head back against his chest.

Then, Jack and the rest file out of the room, giving Cage space to work her freaky mind magic.

As the door closes, Jack takes up vigil by the window, crossing his arms and glaring at Cage’s back. “She better not push him too hard,” he warns no one in particular, watching Mac’s restless shifting like a hawk.

“Yeah, I’ve known Mac since we were kids, and I’ve never seen him like that before,” Bozer says uneasily, standing next to Jack. “He seems…delicate.”

“I can certainly understand why he would be,” Matty says reasonably. “But I trust Cage’s judgment. She won’t do anything to make this worse on him.”

That being said, not even two minutes later, Mac and Cage are in the thick of their weird memory game. Their voices are being piped in through a speaker in the next room, so Jack can hear every word they’re saying.

“I’m sitting on metal,” Mac continues his description, eyes closed, talking evenly like he’s in a trance. “It’s…cold. It’s rough in spots; it’s jagged. It’s old…” He lifts his head now, eyes still shut, but turning his face like he’s looking around.

To Jack’s immense discomfort, he can see that the kid’s hands are balled at his sides, motionless, like they’re handcuffed all over again.

“All around me are…flat, grey rectangles.” He looks down again, his face twisting up. His wrists flex a bit, like he’s struggling against the imaginary restraints. “There are…hard, smooth bands cutting into my wrists, and…there’s a pain in my right arm… Just below the—”

Suddenly, Mac cuts off, bolting upright as his eyes fly open, wild with fear from the flashback. His terrified gasp turns into a groan, and Cage surges forward.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she’s saying.

Meanwhile, Matty is gripping Jack’s arm to stop him from barging in there. 

“Dammit, I told you! I _said_ she’d take it too far!” he practically yells.

“Stand down, Dalton!” Matty orders, jerking him back into place.

“He’s _scared_ , Matty!” Jack says desperately, jabbing a finger at the rattled form of his partner, his best friend. “I understand wanting to get to the memories while they’re fresh. Trust me, _no one_ wants to catch Murdoc more than me. _No one._ But this just ain’t right! At least let me go in there! I won’t say anything! I’ll keep my trap shut, okay? Just let me go in there and be with him.”

And Matty looks like she’s considering it, but that’s when something must change in the other room. Mac jumps up and starts grabbing colored markers, scribbling mathematical equations on the window.

Through the glass, his eyes meet Jack’s, and for a second, he almost look like his normal self.

Jack sighs, mostly in relief, and lets Matty hold him still.

* * *

When the interview is over, the rest of the team evaporates to their separate corners of the Phoenix. They have a location now, so it’s officially go-time.

While they’re prepping, however, Mac lingers in the examination room, so Jack jumps at his opportunity for some serious, quality TLC-time.

Mac glances up when he pushes through the door, offering a faint smile. Then he notices the stuff tucked under Jack’s arm. “What’s all that?”

“Well, since our lovely Phoenix friends have gone scamperin’ off, leaving you high and dry - as always, it’s up to your old buddy Jack Dalton to be the brains of the operation.” He flops the bundle onto the exam table, and Mac comes over to investigate.

Damn, it’s good to see him on his feet.

He thumbs through the pile of items, his small smile growing a bit wider. “Fresh clothes, two water bottles, a bag of pringles, a bag of pretzel sticks, and a Hershey bar.” After a second, that faint smile turns into a quiet laugh.

Mac looks up, eyes shining appreciatively. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack lightly thumps the kid’s back. “Naw, man. Thank _you_ – for gettin’ yourself back here in one piece. You did good, brother. You did really good.”

Mac’s smile is sad, but genuine. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared before,” he admits softly, playing with the hem of the fresh pair of pants Jack brought him. “I mean, yeah, there were some moments in Afghanistan that were close, but…” He shakes his head, looking truly haunted. “This was…different.”

Jack turns, gesturing. “Come here.”

Mac looks at him sideways, so he says it again.

“Come here.”

With a sigh, Mac gives in. He lays himself against Jack’s chest, hugging with only one arm because the other one is still really sore. Jack, however, wraps both arms around him like a vice grip, squeezing probably too hard. Not that Mac seems to mind.

He’s not a hugger, but he settles his cheek against the hollow of Jack’s throat, sighing contently.

“We’re gonna find Murdoc,” Jack assures him. “And I’m gonna break his nose.”

“Just his nose? That’s a surprise.”

“ _Starting_ with the nose, then moving outward from there.” Jack settles his chin on top of Mac’s hair, glaring at the wall behind them. “We’re gonna make him pay for what he did, I promise you that.”

Mac nods silently. The kid’s a pacifist, so it doesn’t surprise Jack that he’d rather not engage in this particular subject. Instead, he shuts his eyes and enjoys the embrace. Enjoys the knowledge that there is no where in the world safer for him than right here – in the Phoenix, surrounded by his friends and family, right next to Jack Dalton, who would burn the world to the ground to keep him safe.

He’s safe.


End file.
